


Ask and You Shall Receive

by greenmamba5



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: BAMF Credence Barebone, F/M, M/M, Multi, Physical Abuse, Polyamory, muggleborn reader, polyship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 10:12:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9603449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmamba5/pseuds/greenmamba5
Summary: Newt and Credence live a happy life, traveling and rehabilitating beasts. They happen into a pub just in time to see an unjust punishment being doled out to a poor, Muggleborn witch. It seems they're in the business of tending to abused people now, as well as creatures. What they didn't expect was to feel something deeper bubbling to the surface. Eventual poly relationship.





	

Credence was happy to return to London. 

Newt had been led on a hunt for dragon eggs—allegedly Hungarian Horntails and they could be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. The information carried them to some backwoods blackmarket warehouse that produced a clutch of Common Welsh Greens. The poor saps barely knew a dragon egg from a goose egg and they’d been expertly duped into believing their goods were worth something. Newt still took pity on the unhatched dragonlings and fought to procure them, but Credence felt crushingly disappointed, all the same.

So, he was happy to return home, to their little cottage hidden away from the world, to their privacy, to the safe place where he could act unabashedly in front of Newt. 

Newt cooed over the eggs in his rucksack as they navigated through Diagon Alley. They had to pick up a few supplies before Apparating home, and Credence shushed Newt dangerously.

“D’you want everyone around to hear you fawning over them?”

“Nonsense,” Newt chided. “No one knows what I’m on about. Oh, I can’t wait, Credence. They’re probably only a few days from hatching. We should let them get a look at you first. There’s nothing like an imprinted dragonling. They’ll follow you ‘round even when they’re grown. And, wouldn’t that be something? To go out to the mountains and have a whole clutch of Greens flying about, happy to see Mum?”

“You’re Mum, Newt, not me,” Credence said with a laugh.

“Oh, come now, Love,” Newt said, chuckling. “Greens would be good start for you. They’re fairly docile, obedient, and they don’t try to catch you on fire when they hit those rebellious adolescent years. Not like Ironbellies, believe me.”

“You love your Ironbellies,” Credence argued.

“Oh, yes,” Newt said dreamily. He’d worked with many of the beasts during the war and they remembered him, even know. Credence had tagged along for a visit, but the dragons hadn’t taken to kindly to him squeezing his way into their Mum’s heart. Jealous children, they were.

Newt was hardly paying attention, and didn’t even see the collision coming.

\----

You saw them outside the shop window, walking slowly and talking. They wore high-dollar cloaks, despite the overall shabby look of the ginger man in the lead. The dark-haired one that followed him seemed reserved and keen on whatever the ginger was saying. A bumbling master and his apprentice, you figured. They were decent enough targets.

You shuffled out of the shop, knicking a vial of Pep-Up potion from the display counter as you passed and expertly tucking in into your threadbare jumper. You dashed out of the shop, faking a rush, and veered straight into the ginger. You pushed your hands out, pretending to stabilize yourself after the crash. You swept his pockets undetected and slipped his wallet into your sleeve. 

You profusely apologized, perfectly rehearsed, and he gave you a warm, understanding smile that made you almost feel guilty for robbing him. You scurried away, waving in mock embarrassment.

\-----

Credence held his Obscurus in as Newt raised his hand in a steadying motion. They watched you run until you disappeared from sight.

“Newt, she pickpocketed you!” Credence gasped. 

“I’m aware,” Newt said. “And here I’d just found a dull wallet that the Niffler didn’t want to steal. I really thought I’d be set and safe from theft.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?”

Newt shrugged. “She probably needed it more than I did, and it was a good effort, wouldn’t you say?”

\-------

With Newt’s money stolen, a trip to Gringotts was in order before supplies could be purchased. Credence was less than happy that their return home was postponed, but Newt was still cheerful and that eased his mood considerably. 

Night was falling and Newt suggested stopping into a pub for dinner and a butterbeer before going home. Much as he wanted to protest, Credence couldn’t argue that a hot butterbeer sounded fantastic. They ducked into a busy pub, ordered a couple of mince pies and drinks and took a rest. 

Newt was in such good spirits and the butterbeer brought an adorable flush to his cheeks. Credence leaned in his barstool, brushing shoulders with Newt. His magizoologist rubbed a hand on his thigh, scooting close enough to kiss if Credence just tipped his head slightly.

And, maybe Newt would’ve gotten a kiss, too, had a crash not sounded behind the bar. It wasn’t enough to attract attention from the rowdy bar crowd, but it pricked Credence’s ears. He searched for the sound and saw you scrambling to pick up pieces of a busted pint.

“Newt, it’s her again,” he grumbled.

“Leave her be,” Newt said. 

Credence was still miffed, though, and gave you glare for good measure.

\--------

You had plenty to worry about to keep you distracted, however, and you didn’t even notice the weight of the dark-haired man’s dirty look. Mr. Kinsley was bearing down on you, and he wasn’t happy. The money you’d given him wasn’t nearly enough, and he’d have your hide for it.

He was a thin but broad shouldered sort and his greying hair was slicked back. His face was pinched in anger, that pure blood that he was so proud of blooming across his face.

“You think this is a joke, then?” he snarled. “Pocket change like this barely earns you a meal. You don’t expect a bed tonight, I hope?”

He was a nasty sort that you’d gotten mixed in with right after school. He wanted ears in the underground, and you could provide that. For a while, information had been enough to keep you fed and sheltered, but lately, he’d been after money. Now, you found yourself caught. If you tried to crawl out from under him, he’d use his contacts to find you—you simply knew too many of his dirty secrets to be let go now.

“Give me an advance,” you pleaded. “I’ll hit someone big tomorrow and pay you three-fold.”

“Filthy lies, Muddy,” he spat. He had a habit of calling you that to jab at your Muggleborn blood. 

“You know I’m good for it,” you said.

“That does nothing for me tonight,” he snapped. “Methinks we should take it from your flesh, unless you want interest on top of it tomorrow.” He twirled his wand in show. The length of it was greater than average and its springy texture made it an ideal sort of switch. 

You had no desire to accumulate interest, a promise he would deliver on, and you made a motion to kneel before him. He palmed the back of your neck and shoved you down roughly, forcing your knees onto the broken glass. Butterbeer stung like acid at the new cuts in your flesh, but you held back a hiss and rolled up your sleeves. You kept your head down and bared your arms to him. There were already scars marring your flesh, some from scraps with other undergrounders, and some from the merciless lashing edge of Kinsley’s wand.

“Turn ‘em over, Muddy,” he ordered. 

You shuddered and rotated the underside of your arms up. You knew the cuts would be deeper on the softer skin of your arms, but the interest that he offered should you fight tonight was the horrendous sort you didn’t want to consider. Best to get the lashes over with and do better next time.

He gave a haughty laugh and took a swipe, striking a red-hot welt into your forearm. You counted about four more, one that sliced into skin, before an angry shout rang out over the bar counter. There was a blur of a cloak vaulting over the bar and then Kinsley was bodily knocked down. You stared up in awe at Kinsley’s assailant, gasping when you realized it was the dark-haired man you’d seen with the ginger earlier. 

He had a stark, black wand drawn, pressed threateningly into Kinsley’s cheek and you could swear his eyes had gone white with rage. There was a black haze forming round him and even from where you kneeled, a few feet away, it felt dangerously heavy. 

There were other bar patrons crowding, getting their front row seats to Kinsley’s arse whooping, one that he’d had a long time coming, honestly, though no one really had the clout to deliver it without being hunted down. The dark-haired man meant business, though, and he didn’t care who Kinsley was or what power he might have at his disposal. 

Kinsley gripped his wand, but the dark-haired man dug his own into his cheek. “Try it.”

A hand came down on your shoulder, startling you, and suddenly the ginger man was crouching at your side. “Credence, that’s enough,” he said. “He’s not worth the words it would take to cast the spell.”

“I’ll cast it wordless, then,” the dark-haired man, Credence, snarled.

“Come along, love,” the ginger soothed. “We’ve places to be and creatures to tend to. You know how grumpy Dougal gets if we run behind schedule.”

Credence lowered his wand and stood, still shooting that white-hot glare at Kinsley—and, yes, his eyes were actually glowing white. He came to the ginger’s side and offered you a hand. There were deep, white lines cut into his palm and suddenly his anger made a lot more sense to you. He must’ve been and undergrounder, too, at some point, trapped under the whip. You took his hand and he tugged you up. You hissed as glass shards shifted in your knees and the ginger man quickly swept a spell over your legs. You felt the glass popping free of your skin and the cuts mending closed.

“Who… are you people?” you asked incredulously. 

Kinsley rose from the ground with an indignant cry, but the ginger threw a stunning spell his way without even looking over. Kinsley shuddered and toppled into a heap on the floor. The man smiled at you and held his hand out. “Newt Scamander. I’ve no patience for his sort, and I imagine you don’t either. What say you come with us, Miss? We’ll put you up for the night.”

The name seemed familiar to you, though you weren’t entirely sure why. You looked from Scamander to Credence and back. You took the hand offered to you, shook it lightly, and smiled. “Mr. Scamander, I’d be more than happy to accompany you.”

“Excellent,” he said. He held up his free hand and Accio’d his wallet from the pile of earnings you’d supplied Kinsley. You stared wide-eyed at the man as a knowing smile crossed his features. “Don’t worry, I have an idea of how you can atone for this little indiscretion. Nothing so heavy as bodily harm or lifelong debt, so don’t fret.”

He kept hold of your hand and Credence drew close, placing his hand on his shoulder. In a blink, you Disapparated, leaving the pub behind.


End file.
